'Michael Jackson: The Immortal World Tour' is a spectacle without a center

OSA ImagesA scene from the "Dangerous" portion of the Cirque du Soleil show "Michael Jackson: The Immortal World Tour."

"He remains no more than a description — mysterious, elusive." So said the voice over the sound system at the Prudential Center in Newark on Friday night, introducing "Smooth Criminal," Michael Jackson's pop-rock classic.

The well-worn argot of detective stories could not disguise that this was a confession. The dimensions of Michael Jackson's genius have proven as difficult to define in death as they were while he was alive. "Michael Jackson: The Immortal World Tour" — which presents the third of its shows at Prudential Center tonight, and comes to Madison Square Garden in New York from Tuesday to Thursday — is Cirque du Soleil's attempt to grapple with the meaning of Jackson's music and the astonishing force of his creativity. The two-hour concert — and it is more a concert than a circus — is good-natured and gymnastic, and it reaches aggressively for the heartstrings. But it sheds no light on the mystery at its core.

Cirque du Soleil has given itself an impossible task. The Canadian production company is attempting to throw a Michael Jackson concert without the assistance, or presence, of Michael Jackson. The pop star's whip-crack vocals are piped in, and a fine 10-piece band, led by longtime Jackson collaborator Greg Phillinganes and powered by drummer Jonathan "Sugarfoot" Moffett, provides the music. As the hits play, a massive team of dancers, contortionists, and acrobats performs tempered versions of trademark Cirque mid-air routines. Many of these set pieces are visually spectacular: Four trapeze artists in costumes fitted with lights become a swarm of fireflies in the night sky during "Human Nature," and a team of synchronized gymnasts hit the mat with Soviet-era precision while "Scream" roars away behind them.

But without the star, "Immortal" is a big-budget arena concert without a charismatic center. Jackson keeps slipping away from the show's creators: in one telling video sequence, his body, never fully shown, dissolves into dust, over and over.

Unable to realize a full portrait of Jackson, Cirque grasps at fragments of the star: One Cirque actor dances in a costume made to resemble his famous glove, while two more emerge from giant replicas of his shoes. "Immortal" plays up the grotesque elements of Jackson's muse — his fascination with monsters, with criminals, and with animals — by literalizing his most fantastic lyrics. A version of "Dancing Machine" attaches armored Cirque performers to gleaming contraptions, and tacitly draws a connection between Jackson's moves and clockwork gears. During the show, Jackson is likened to (among other things) a robot, a mummy, a ghost, a vampire bat, and a prisoner behind the golden gates of Neverland. Bubbles the Chimp — or an unlucky actor dressed like him — even makes several appearances.

So besotted is Cirque with the mythology surrounding Jackson that "Immortal" barely bothers with his humanity. There is little trace of the electrifying young human being who held America spellbound during "Motown 25" special in 1983, or who slugged away bravely at the color bar on MTV. Cirque is clearly more impressed with the anti-gravity lean than by the moonwalk. It is Jackson the magician the circus is after, not the Jackson the visionary musician who engaged with soul, funk, jazz, and hip-hop.

The set list, which was designed after consulting with the Jackson estate, makes these priorities clear. "Immortal" leans unforgivably hard on Jackson's ballads: "I Just Can't Stop Loving You," "Earth Song," and the maudlin "Childhood" are all given big, tricked-out productions. By contrast, "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" and "Billie Jean" are tossed into a mash-up medley that robbed both songs of their impeccable pop architecture (and their verses) and attenuates their booty-shaking power. It is almost as if Cirque du Soleil designed the show to discourage dancing.

That Michael Jackson adored spectacle is clear enough. But Jackson was not a three-ring circus. He was a single, unwavering point of focus — one that commanded full attention no matter where it went. Debates about his career and his impact will rage for decades, but even his detractors must admit that he deserves a better, fuller, wiser tribute than this.Tris McCall: tmccall@starledger.com